Easier
by RhiannonNymph
Summary: Ch 3. He barely hears his name when the Angel stands.
1. Sam

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own anything worth anything, and I'm exceedingly poor these days, so…

**A/N: **I was listening to my iPod and Johnny Cash's "God's Gonna Cut You Down" came on. And if you know this show, you know that song. Best previews ever. Any how, that's where this came from. So enjoy and review!

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**EASIER**

The last one died and he was just that much more okay with it, because it happens.

He was doing it more and more, using his gifts. It was becoming second nature, as easy and automatic as breathing. There were times he'd just use his gift, to hell with the consequences - things had to get done, and he was doing them. He could do more than just send demons back to Hell; he could get answers, from any thing, from any person. All he had to do was think a little bit. It didn't even hurt any more.

There were times, when Dean was near and he'd have to remember to hold himself back. He'd tell himself _No, Sam _or _Pull back Sam_, or _You can do it without that Sam. _He's almost slipped a time or two. He didn't need the constant fighting. He'd heard Dean, and he still didn't think he was hurting anyone. No one innocent.

More and more often he would leave in the night, leave his brother sleeping and go to Ruby. And when Dean was no where to be seen it was all _Go on, do it _and _It's easier this way_ and _He'll live - I'm sure of it._

A life was a life, it didn't matter how it was saved.

Then one night he came back to the hotel and the Impala was gone. He just figured Dean had woken and had gone to look for him, or drown his worries.

When he opened the door his brothers Angel was standing not five feet into the room, head bowed. When he looks up, Sam staggers back. Not out of fear, not outwardly. It was shock.

It was the face of a human man contorted with the grief of a Holy Being.

He thought he might cry. He thought Castiel might cry. The blue eyes that bored into him looked broken. It was the saddest thing he'd ever seen, and it scared the hell out of him.

"Samuel." the Angel's voice dripped despair.

And all he can say is, "Where's Dean?" Because he wanted Dean. He felt like he'd walked into something terrible and he wanted, needed, his brother.

It's then that he notices the form lurking in the shadows behind Castiel.

Uriel stood, a smile on his lips.


	2. Castiel

So, I decided to do two more little bits. Cause Dean's not dead, oh no. He just wasn't there. And I couldn't decide which I wanted more, Castiel's POV or Dean's. So I'm doing both. Cas is up first. R and R!! Thanks.

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**EASIER**

He's hunched on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, hands clasped and head down when the door opens. He doesn't look up, he can feel the confusion and concern swarm the room.

A dirt caked boot kicks the door closed and only when the lights come on does he raise his heavy head. He does it out of respect, and a desire to see it coming. He's sure of the mortal's response.

It'll be wrath. Worse than.

The man's jaw is clenched. Distrust and anger twisting every sinew. As first, he hadn't understood his Fathers need of this man. He can see it now, the man was a masterpiece.

He was an instrument, a disciple, a warning and a risk all at once.

He hadn't wanted to have to face him. He knew it was cowardly, even though it was the first time he'd ever experienced the feeling. The form he'd been using was capable of tears. His Being had wept with sorrow. His eyes could be nothing but red.

"Dean." he whispers, standing.

Dean's intelligent, "Where's Sam?"

Castiel's shoulders slump as his lips come together. The response was immediate; Dean was on him, fists twisted in his Host's jacket, pushing him back into a wall. He let the beating happen. He understood, the Host did, too. Those tears had been shared.

The first blow didn't hurt, not physically, but it felt like the core of his Being was taking each hit like a lash from a whip.

"Where. Is. He?"

He casts a pained look at the floor where Dean had been standing, unknowingly. Castiel hadn't taken Sam, but he hadn't stood to save him either. He knew Dean's forgiveness would never be forthcoming. It shouldn't have mattered, but it did.

Dean's eyes slid to the spot Castiel had motioned to, and slid back icy. He felt they should be black, they were devoid of anything.

The next thing he knows, he's on his back with Dean atop him, arms flailing. He takes the beating, doesn't raise a hand in his defense. "You and _God _can go to Hell!" Dean spits.

Castiel lay still. Dean was a risk. A risk with factors they had badly miscalculated.

He didn't have to _go _to Hell. He knew, that now, Hell would come to him.


	3. Dean

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed. :) I heart those comments. **

**Now, Dean's turn. As always, R and R. Thanks for reading.**

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**EASIER**

Sam was nowhere.

He hit as many abandoned warehouses as he cared to. Sam wanted to play super-secret, maybe-evil guy? Fine. Dean didn't care. He would leave Sam to his secrets.

No, no Dean didn't really think that. He knew Sammy, had watched him grow. He was as evil as sunshine. His brother just had issues, Dean knew about issues.

When he made the motel and the window was still dark, his gut sank. He'd figured Sam would beat him back. They'd argue, pretend it was all okay, go to sleep and hunt in the morning.

The form slouched on the bed wasn't his brother.

He closed the door with his foot, not in the mood. When he flicked on the lights and Castiel looked at him, he froze. His body tensed, and he could feel his teeth grinding together his jaw was clenched so tight.

The Angel looked deeply shaken. Dean knew it was wrong, all wrong. Castiel was stronger, braver. Castiel was an Angel, and Angels didn't cry.

He barely hears his name when the Angel stands.

And he knows. Just knows.

Rage taps ever fiber in his brain, rips through every muscle and he's on the Angel before he has time to blink.

He's only shocked for a second when his fist connects with the tax accountant's face the first time. He hits and hits until he has to ask. His fists are wrapped in the fabric of Cas' coat, shoving back and holding him up.

Dean's right in his face, "Where. Is. He?"

He followed Castiel's tear slicked eyes across the room, down to the floor. He hadn't seen it before. The ash, a brilliant black-gray against the carpet. He felt his eyes widen even as his blood froze.

Sam is _nowhere_. Sam is gone, worse than dead. He's non-existent.

Sam had told him once; Uriel had threatened to turn him to ash just as soon as he was useless. Castiel wouldn't have ever taken Sam from Dean, he knew better. But Dean knew he'd been here, had watched. Stood back and watched.

When he looked back into the blue eyes of Castiel's puppet, he would wager the world it was fear he saw there.

Then there was an instant, a flash, when there was nothing. No sound, no sight, no wrong, no right. And he knew what would become of the world. What he would leave the world to.

Nothing. Just like Sam.

And then something in him snapped, it was bone jarring.

He pulls the man from the wall, throwing him down, and jumping on top. And he just lets go. Starts pounding into the flesh, and he doesn't stop until there's blood leaking from the Host's body and almost not even then. He thinks that maybe, just maybe he's beaten the Angel into unconsciousness. Maybe, maybe he's taken something from God that the He held dear.

"You and _God_ can go to Hell."

He'd make sure they'd get there. He'd let it happen. And when it did, Uriel was his.

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**Annnnnd....that is that. Thanks again for the reviews. :)**


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